Hit the Road, Kid
by Skurg
Summary: Casey's been raised by her parents to fend for herself in the Mojave since she was a kid. When she's torn from her home at the age of 17, she's left to find a new life for herself and survive the cruelty that the Mojave provides. As she grows older and tired of ongoing war, she plunges into a world of violence, drugs, blackmail and sex fueled insanity that is, New Vegas. Rated MA
1. Chapter 1

January 3rd 2279

I can hear the marching already. It starts out only as a faint humming first as I poke my head out of my bedroom door. I can hear them shouting as I bound down the stairs, yanking on my hat and running outside. All of the other kids in my village all run out with me, each of them standing outside their homes, some held back by their mothers. The mothers always have a blank look on their face as they try to hide their almost crippling anxiety. Mom said it was to stop the younger children from getting worried, but I think everyone is so used to this stress now that we've welcomed it into our lives. It's hot today, like every day all year round. The sun beats down on the houses around us and I wipe sweat off my forehead as the first of them come into our vision. I look up and see the older kids like me carrying binoculars and climbing the top of the roofs of the houses.  
"Who do you see, Jacob?" I frown, looking up at one of them.  
"Hinter, Damen, Kyle and Richardson are alive," he says loudly and clearly to us as he lists the names of the soldiers in the front. I can feel the weight from some shoulders lighten slightly as I see the Hinter, Damen, Kyle and Richardson families breathe out a sigh of relief. The mothers' faces show a hint of happiness, but again they can't show much emotion, because we see it. In the middle of our marching soldiers is one on a stretcher.  
"Jacob?" I look up at him.  
"I'm looking, Casey," he mumbles and peers through the binoculars.

By now the soldiers are coming closer to us, and I hear Jacob sighing and slowly lowering his binoculars. He drops down and stops dead as 100 pairs of eyes fall flat onto him. I look at him and he gives a silent nod to me, signalling that the man in the stretcher isn't my father. Everybody's body tenses up. I feel a hand on my shoulder and look over said shoulder at my mother. She smiles slightly at me reassuringly and tilts her head down, murmuring a prayer under her breath as the soldiers draw closer to us.

I live in Atkinson. It's a small little village tucked neatly near themid-west of the Mojave Wasteland ten foot high fencessurrounding it to keep us safe. All together there are around 120 people living here. I've known these people literally my entire life, every single one of us has a member of our family in the military. My father's a member of the New Californian Republic, or the NCR. They're an organized military unit that operates throughout the Mojave to try and restore order to this crap hole of a Wasteland. Of the people living here, 30 of us are soldiers, and 20 of them just came back from an assignment. Ten of them stayed behind to guard the village, Jacob included, even though he's 17, the same age as me, he got granted enrollment and is kicking around in NCR uniform when recruitment age is 18. I wouldn't mind so much if the idiot didn't rant on and on about it every chance he got. He doesn't boast now, however, when the soldiers' simultaneous marching brings them into the gate of the town and into the center. I see my father, helping to hold up the stretcher with a blank look on his face. The commander of the troop, Commander McDonald, who is also Jacob's Dad, marches out to the front. He turns, faces his troops, barks something at them and they stand to attention. By this point everyone has scanned the soldiers, and we can hear one piercing cry when someone finds that their son, brother or husband is the one who didn't make it back alive. I bow my head and the hand on my shoulder tightens as I hear the stretcher being carefully placed onto the floor for the medics to pick up and take for burial. The soldiers step away, and melt towards their homes when they're dismissed.

This is not a happy occasion as the soldiers reunite with their families. More often than not Atkinson troops come home alive and relatively unharmed. Sure, we get a few bullet wounds here and there, but we managed to avoid death for a good, solid 18 months. Dad walks toward us, with a fake smile on his face. His beige NCR uniform is covered in dust and his gun is still strapped onto his back.  
"Hey baby girl," he smiles softly and hugs me.  
"Hey Dad," I smile assuringly at him when he breaks away and hugs Mom.  
The family of the fallen soldier, the Jacksons, are on their knees in front of Mr Jackson's body. I cringe when I see the scared looks on the onlooking younger kids' faces as their mothers usher them inside.  
"Let's go inside," Dad nods at us.

I walk inside and sit down at the kitchen table, while Mom anxiously wrings her hands together. Dad goes upstairs and changes out of his uniform into normal clothes and walks downstairs carrying a bag, a BB gun, and his rifle. I grin when I see it.  
"Robert," Mom says anxiously, "Darling, I don't think now is the best time for this."  
Dad shakes his head, "Darlin', there ain't nothin' I need more than to hunt and skin some gecko meat. Let's go Casey."  
I stand up out of my chair and look at Mom for her approval. She throws her hands up in the air and flicks her wrist at us.  
"Go, and be careful."

Every Sunday afternoon since I was around 9 years old, Dad and I go hunting for gecko meat around the lake a mile or two from Atkinson while Mom and the majority of the community is in church. Dad said it was important for me to stay fit and know how to properly shoot a rifle from a young age. Mom objected to the idea of me firing a gun but he didn't seem to take her objections into account, because I was shooting a BB Gun the day after he decided on it.

Dad and I run for the lake, carrying our spare ammo rounds and water canteens almost silently. Usually we're more upbeat and talk a little while we run, but today we're almost silent. We arrive at the lake after around half an hour of running. I'm sweating from the heat and grab my canteen and unscrew the cap. Before I can take a drink, Dad rips the canteen from me.  
"This is half empty," he shakes his head, then screws the cap back onto it and hands it back to me, "What have I told you?"  
"Dad we're right next to a lake!" I complain, pointing at the body of water 50 feet from us, "I can refill my canteen in like, two seconds!"  
"Casey…"  
I sigh, my shoulders sag and I drone out one of the many rules Dad makes me recite over and over again until my head spins, "Ration your water, only drink when you absolutely need to."  
"The water in this lake is irradiated, Casey. You know that water-purification tablets are extremely short in supply anywhere in the Mojave. If you waste them on water that you don't absolutely need, you're wasting resources and killing yourself, understand."  
"Yeah Dad, I've got it."  
"Good girl," he smiles and ruffles my dusty brown hair.

We lay down the traps and bait for the geckos before climb up an old, decayed tree to get a good vantage point. Dad only brought the BB Gun so Mom wouldn't worry that I was firing live rounds. I graduated to Dad's hunting rifle when I was 14, that BB Gun hasn't been fired in years by me. I slide the rifle properly into my arms after loading a clip and peer down the sights while Dad looks through his binoculars.  
"You're gonna miss Jackson, huh?" I sigh as I look around for targets.  
"We all will, baby girl," he sighs and nudges my shoulder, "Stay focused. Here's on coming up right now."

The gecko that wonders out is what Mom calls a "demonized" gecko. It's around four feet tall and around one foot wide, with golden skin that almost glows in the sun. It scampers out to the lake and bends its head down; testing the bait we laid down for it. The scent seems to please it, and it dips its head down and starts to eat. I take in a deep breath and look down my sights, exhaling as I fire. The shot rips into the gecko's neck and sends it flying back a few feet.  
"Good shot Case," he nods and takes the rifle off of me before nodding towards the body.  
"Oh come on," I whine.  
He chuckles and nods toward it again, "You tag it, you bag it darlin'."  
"You suck," I mutter and drop down onto the dirt. I take out my hunting knife and crouch over the body. I start skinning it when I hear Dad firing a shot. I instantly crash onto the ground so I don't get shot by either party exchanging rounds in the event of a fire fight. But after a few seconds of silence, I lift my head up. Another dead gecko is sprawled out barely seven feet from me, its jaws hanging open and ready to clamp itself into my neck.  
"Shit," I gasp and jolt upright.  
"What the hell are you doin'?!" Dad yells at me from the tree, "That thing was projecting all sorts of signals for you to pick up! How did you not see him!?"  
I sigh and look down as my face burns red in both anger and embarrassment. My clothes are already filthy from lying on the dirt, oh boy, another thing my Mom will yell at me for tonight. I dust off my jeans and skin both of the geckos while straining my ears for any kind of movement. I tuck the meat and hide into pouches inside my bag and walk out to Dad with my tail between my legs.  
"Not good enough, Casey," he scolds and rips my canteen away from me, "No water for the run home."  
"Dad!" I whine.  
"Don't 'Dad' me," he tuts and shoves the rifle into my hands, "That crap doesn't work on me. Now start running."

I stagger home and am let through the gate into Atkinson. It's quiet around the small village, even on Sunday, the day where we all come together as a small community and have lunch together and the kids would play in the dirt. Almost nobody is outside, except for the soldiers of course. I hear the faint crying coming from the Jackson's house as we walk home.  
"What happened?" Mom sighs as I walk in a dump my bag on the floor and rummage around the kitchen in search of water. I'm usually talkative and bragging about my kills, my silence and swift movements project my embarrassment and she easily picks up on it.  
"Nothing," Dad smiles and pecks Mom's cheek. Telling Mom I'd almost been bitten by some disease-ridden gecko would only worry her. "What's for dinner, darlin'?"  
"Casey!" Mom snaps at me as I drink some water, "You're filthy!"  
"Ah she's fine," Dad shakes his head dismissively as he sits down at the table and starts to drink a beer, "Casey, finish cleaning those gecko hides, then go down to the Riley's next door. He'll give you some cash for it."  
"Yeah," I nod and finish drinking my water.

I slam the door behind me and sling my bag with the cleaned hide inside over my shoulder.

"Hi Casey," Jacob smiles, walking up to me with a grin on his face.  
"Get that grin off your face," I whisper angrily, "Jackson died today, show some respect."  
He rolls his eyes and takes the bag from me, "What've you got here?"  
"Gecko hide," I mutter, before looking over my shoulder, "You've got it?"  
Jacob nods and hands me a small bag, "Do you know how to use it?"  
"No," I roll my eyes as I take the 9mm pistol I've been asking for out of my bag, "My father never taught me how to use a gun."  
"No need to be a smartass," he tuts and looks at me, "Why do you need the piece anyway?"  
I sigh, "I'm 18 in a few months, I'm gonna walk to Primm and see if I can't find myself a job working as a courier."  
"A courier, eh?" he smirks as he follows me to the Riley's, "Your parents must be proud."  
"They don't know," I sigh and walk past a few homes, "The gun is for protection, a BB Gun won't help much."  
"You know your parents won't let you be a piss-weak courier, right?"  
"It's an honest living, Jacob."  
"A low paying honest job," he shakes his head, "Why not be a merc? You're small and innocent enough to take people by surprise. You have it in you."  
"Leave me alone, Jacob," I sigh, "I don't have time to think about this right now. I shouldn't even be telling you about this anyway."  
"Aw come on, Case," he teases, "I thought we were buddies? We could tell each other everything."  
I roll my eyes again as I reach the Riley house, "Look. I'm going to pretend like this conversation never happened, OK? You're going to do the same. If I found out you told someone, I'm going to test out my new gun on your prized baseball. Understand?"  
Jacob takes a few steps back with his hands raised sarcastically, "Yes ma'am," he chuckles and tips the side of his helmet.  
"Good," I nod, though I don't believe him for a second, "Have a good afternoon, Jacob."  
"You too, Casey," he nods before walking away, "Pft… courier…"


	2. Chapter 2

January 5th 2279

"Casey, there you are," Mom smiles as I walk down the stairs, "Good afternoon."  
"Afternoon?" I grumble and scratch the back of my head, "What time is it?"  
"12:30. I decided to let you sleep in."  
"Lemmie sleep in?" I raise my eyebrows and sit down at the kitchen table. On the table's a note and I pick it up and skim through it, reading the list of plants that has my name on it that I need to collect, "Aw Mom!"  
"All we need to get is some banana yucca fruit, some broc flower and some Nevada agave fruit."  
"Why do I have to go?" I sigh as I get up and put on my hat.  
"Because your father is preparing Mr Jackson's body for burial. I need someone to go to help me collect the plants and make sure someone doesn't come up on me."

Finding plants in the Mojave that are non-poisonous is something that requires a keen eye and patience. When Dad wasn't teaching me how to defend myself, Mom was teaching me how to survive on whatever food I could find. At age 10 I could start a fire with a stick and a knife, cook a full dinner using only plants, make clothes out of animal hide for the "colder" months, know how to use plants as makeshift medical supplies and, according to Mom most importantly, I was able to name and describe every known plant in the Mojave and tell which was dangerous and which wasn't. Mom and I walk down the road for around 15 minutes before making a sharp right. We abandon the road and instead start walking into the wild, making sure we're in a position where the NCR in the guard posts can see us. Mom loves picking the plants; she always seems to enjoy the "beauty" of nature, despitehow rare beauty is out here. I spot a banana yucca and cut it free from its stem and shove it into my bag.  
"Your father told me that the Powder Gangers are moving around Atkinson," she sighs as she walks around looking for the plants.  
"Really?" I frown, "When do you think they'll attack us?"  
"Casey," she snaps, "Don't think like that!"  
"It's only a matter of 'when', Mom, not 'if'," I sigh and wipe some excess plant juice off my blade onto the leg of my pants.  
"You sound just like your father," she scowls and shakes her head, "You both never seem to put yourselves at ease, do you?"  
"There isn't a reason to be at ease yet, Mom," I shrug and keep my eyes trained on the area around us.  
"Relaxing a bit would help you," she takes a few plants and tucks them into her own bag, "You're still a young girl, Casey. Let the NCR worry about the Powder Gangers. We attacked them on Sunday, they won't attack us back, because they don't have the man power. Until that time comes, I want you to relax. Don't go hunting with your father, go talk with some of your friends instead."  
"But I already do that, Mom," I complain as I check our list of the plants we need, "It's just a matter of- shush!" I shoot my hand up in the air, cutting myself off. I whip my head to the right and frown.  
"What?" Mom frowns and crosses her arms.  
"… Nothing," I mutter, "I thought I heard something."  
"Again, more the reason you should relax more, Casey. You get worried too easily."  
"I will, Mom. I promise," I smile at her and she hugs me tightly.  
"That's my girl," she sighs, "Let's go home. The sooner you start acting less like a soldier and more like a kid, the better."

We walk back to the village and I leave Mom to take the plants to prepare dinner for tonight. I slip through the houses and walk up to the guard post, where I find Jacob sitting down and reading a book. I climb the ladder to his post and whack him over the head.  
"Ow!" he snaps and drops his book, "What the hell was that for?"  
I point to the south east, "I think I heard something running along here. Keep an eye on it for me, OK?"  
Jacob chuckles and picks up his binoculars, "Casey you must be sucking on Jet, I've been watching around here for… huh…"  
"What?"  
He hands me the binoculars, "Take a look."  
There's a small hill around 200 metres away from us with a tiny black dot at the top of it. I rub the lens with my jacket sleeve and look again, it's still there.  
"What do you think?" I look down at him.  
"It's probably a gecko," he shrugs and looks up at me with a smirk, "But we can't be too sure. Can we?"  
I shake my head with a smile on my face as Jacob picks up his rifle. There isn't anything more entertaining for kids of NCR soldiers to do than to test their marksmanship. Before Jacob can shoot, he looks over his shoulder and hollers, "Commander?!"  
Commander McDonald walks out of the main NCR office and looks up at his son, "What'd you see, boy?"  
"Casey and I picked up an unknown shape in the distance, sir," he points at its general direction, "Permission to fire a warning shot, sir?"  
"Aye aye, no more than two shots, Private," McDonald warns, before changing his tone to something a little more annoyed and patronizing, "And, if it doesn't move son, don't keep shooting it."  
"Aye aye," Jacob mutters and aims down his rifle.  
"You got a clear shot," I smile and nod at him, "Go for it, Jacob."  
Jacob's shot skims along the top of the hill a few inches from the black shape, it almost immediately disappears.  
"Dammit… I'll keep my eye on this," Jacob frowns and nods at me. I look ahead at the small hill and frown to myself.

"In other news, local reinforcement has finally arrived to Hover Dam. Exhausted troops were greeted this morning with fresh, able bodied men and enough supplies to last them through the winter…"  
"Check," I tap my fingers on my cards as Dad turns up the radio. Dad lays down three new cards and I rest my feet against the table.  
"What's this I hear about you and Jacob firing guns at the watch post today?" Mom frowns as she pushes my feet off the table.  
"I didn't fire anything, Ma," I sigh and nudge a worn out, scratched gambling chip onto the table, "We were looking into something and Jacob fired his gun, nothin' more. You shouldn't worry about these kinds of things."  
Mom gives me a look and I purse my lips to hide the smirk on my face.  
"Get your feet off the table, Casey," Mom says bitterly. Mom hates it when Dad and I gamble when we play poker, when I put my feet up on the table, and when I "have a smart mouth". Today isn't her lucky day, but she doesn't say a word as she sits on the chair sewing a tear in one of her skirts, looking miserably at the stack of plates left behind after dinner.  
"Them Powder Gangers're probably what you and Jacob saw today," Dad frowns and takes a sip of his beer, "I don't want you wandering away from town for a few days, understand?"  
"Understood," I nod.  
"And keep your knife with you."  
"Yes Dad," I sigh.  
"I'm just lookin' out for you, kiddo," he chuckles and shakes his head, "I ain't gonna be there when you have to be hacking at some Powder Ganger with only your fingernails."  
"Robert!" Mom gasps, "Don't talk that way, for Heaven's sake!"  
"Aw Casey isn't a baby, darlin'," Dad chuckles, "She's smart enough to handle herself."  
"I'm gonna go to bed," I sigh and flick my cards into the pot, "I fold."  
"Coward," Dad teases as he gathers up his chips.  
I walk upstairs and close the door behind me. I dig underneath my mattress and find the small bag underneath and quietly slide out my 9mm. I slowly slide out the magazine to maybe muffle the noise and check how many rounds are inside, Jacob was kind enough to give me a full clip. I smile and load it, cock the gun, and turn on the safety. I get changed for bed and slide the gun underneath my pillow and keep my knife at my bedside table. I'm not worried, I'm an NCR rat, born and raised in a blanket of safety. Between me and them are guys who've been trained to kick ass twenty four hours a day. If that fails, I have a gun that I can assemble as disassemble blindfolded and with my hands tied behind my back. Nobody's gonna be able to lay a finger on me, because I'm ready, and the NCR is ready too.

January 6th

I walk over to Dad's guard post early this morning and hand him a glass of water. It's especially hot today, and it's only 11AM.  
"Dang it's hot," I groan and grab Dad's binoculars. Everything is quiet, no mysterious shapes to be seen.  
"No contact for a few hours, we saw a few figures moving around early this morning, but it could mean anything. Could be a geckosor a pack of wild dogs."  
"I'm not worried, Dad," I smile and hand him the binoculars.  
Dad looks around and smiles, handing me his rifle, "You wanna take over for me for a few minutes?"  
"What? Why?" I frown as he stands up.  
"I've gotta use the bathroom, nothing's gonna go wrong," he nods and pushes me into the chair, "You'll be fine."

Dad drops down and I look around. I feel exposed up here, anyone could take a shot at me from here, my chest and head is sticking out of the wooden barrier, anyone could pick me off right now. Sweat starts to trickle down my temples, and I can feel my hair sticking against my blue baseball cap. "Stay calm, Casey…" I murmur to myself. But I can't, at any second I could be picked off. I'd never have someone to be with, sleep with or hang out with, I'd be a rotting corpse in a box. I see a small glint and instantly point my gun at it and look down at the scope, nothings there.  
"Jesus…" I shiver and wipe my forehead.  
"Boo!" Jacob shouts. I jolt and look behind me and groan as he hoists himself up the ladder and stands beside me.  
"Well, well. What's this? Casey's gotta gun," he grins and picksup Dad's rifle.  
"Go away, Jacob," I sigh and turn my head away from him.  
"I thought kids weren't supposed to be holding guns?" he chuckles.  
"We're the same age, moron," I scowl and cross my arms.  
"Don't pout," he chuckles and hands me the gun back, "Don't let the Commander catch you, he'll kick you and your Dad's asses."  
"That isn't a nice way to talk to a lady, Jacob," Dad chuckles from the ground, "I think Casey can handle herself. Don't you have boots to polish, Private?"  
"No, sir," Jacob grumbles and shakes his head to hide his embarrassment, "I've got places to be."  
"Me too," I nod at Dad and hand him his gun when he climbs back onto the tower. Jacob stands back to let me climb down first, but I roll my eyes and drop down the guard post. I land smoothly on my feet, just as I hear a loud boom.  
"No!" I hear Dad cry out. I whip my head up and see Jacob crash onto the ground beside me on his back.  
"Dad?!" I look up at him when I see him firing his gun.  
"Casey! Drag Jacob to a medic!"  
"What?! Why?!"  
I look down at Jacob, who's looking numbly at a seeping wound in his chest.  
"Oh no," I gasp and drop down onto my knees beside him. I can't move him, it'll literally kill him. His hands are covering his wounds, but I can see the blood flooding around his fingers, staining them as he looks up at me. His eyes are frozen in terror, and his body jolts as he struggles for breath.  
"Easy, Jacob," I whisper, "It's gonna be OK."  
My body's paralysed in fear and shock; I've never seen so much blood before. Sure, I'd seen injured NCR all the time, but never fresh wounds. The worst I ever got to see was a bad cut on someone's leg, not a fresh wound. My brain is moving a mile a minute, my mouth trembles for something to say to make Jacob feel better or be somehow stronger in this situation, but there's only word in my mind that sticks out. In one movement, I turn my head back to the centre of the town and scream, with every ounce of energy I can muster, "Medic!"  
I drop to my knees beside Jacob and my eyes lock with his, and we both become even more terrified. I can't remember a thing that I was taught about first-aid, I don't even remember if I'm supposed to remove his jacket. My fingers hover over his hands, his now almost crimson hands. He's making "C…C-C-C," noises, like he's trying to say my name. He's begging me to fix him, to do anything to make the pain go away. I can't do anything; I don't even know what's happened to him entirely. I assume he's shot, he has to be, but I don't know with what gun. I feel a hand grabbing my shoulder and throwing me away from Jacob. Two medics crouch over him after they drop a stretcher beside him. I see Commander McDonald frantically drop down beside his son, his face blank and emotionless as Jacob struggles for his life underneath him. I'm sitting on the dirt a few feet behind the area, and I can hear the gunfire finally stop.  
"D…D…" Jacob croaks and looks up at the Commander. The Medics look at the Commander and shake their heads, McDonald doesn't acknowledge him.  
"You're going to be fine, Jacob," he says firmly, "We're going to get you help."  
I shake my head and get onto my feet, my legs tremble and I feel my father's hands clap onto my shoulders and try to pull me back. My feet stumble back as he pulls, and I look down to support myself. I see that my hands are dotted with specks of red and it takes everything I have not to pass out. I feel myself being lifted up and my father carries me home. I look over his shoulder and see McDonald standing over his son and pulls out his gun.  
"Don't!" I shout and try to wriggle out of Dad's arms to save him.  
"Don't look Casey," Dad says gently, like I'm a child. I thrash and twist my body in his arms.  
I hear the gunshot and I feel like my body weighs a million tonnes. Dad picks up the pace and shoves me through the door to the house.

"Oh thank god!" Mom howls when she sees us, "I heard either Jacob or Casey got shot!"  
"Jacob's dead," Dad grunts as he carries me up to my bed, "The blood on Casey's hands isn't hers, but it needs to be washed off."  
Tears prick my eyes and I look up at my parents, but Dad's already left and I can't see Mom. I feel warm water on my hands and delicate fingers stroke the blood from my skin. Tears stream down my face, my body shaking with silent sobs. Mom doesn't cry, because she looks as horrified as I am. I can't stop shaking;convulsing as raw emotion controls me.  
"It's going to be fine, my beautiful baby girl," she whispers and I feel a sharp sting on my right arm. I look over and see her injecting me with something. My body begins to feel warm, and my body stops shaking. I feel very tired, and I turn to my mother, "I couldn't do anything," I mumble and close my eyes to hide my tears from her, "I couldn't do nothin',"  
"I know you couldn't, honey. Don't feel guilty. Rest, everything will be fine."

January 8th

"May they find eternal piece in the arms of our Lord," the priest says solemnly, crossing himself and closing his Bible.  
"Amen," everyone in Atkinson murmurs. My feet haven't left the floor the entire funeral service. My father keeps his hand firmly on my shoulder, somehow trying to find me comfort as Jackson and Jacob's coffins are lowered into the ground. CommanderMcDonald hasn't said a word to anyone except for his Lieutenants since Jacob died, today isn't an exception. The second the service ends he stands silently as four soldiers fill each grave with dirt. When the job is done, he simply goes into his office and shuts the door behind him.  
"Go back inside Casey," Dad sighs when I keep staring at the grave. We've been in lockdown since Jacob died; all civilians and off duty soldiers are confined to their houses for our own safety. I trudge home and collapse onto the couch and rub my eyes with my fingertips. Mom walks into the house and locks the door behind her.  
"You should have worn something more presentable, Casey," she mutters as she takes off her formal hat. I look down at my shirt and jeans and sigh, "I can't do this right now, Mom."  
"Your father wants his rifle primed and ready for you to use in case something happens."  
I get up with an annoyed posture and snatch his rifle from where it sits on the stand on our bookshelf, "Something is going to happen, Mom. It already has."  
"We don't know that," she snaps as I sit down on the kitchen table and start to clean Dad's gun.  
"Jacob is already dead, Mom!" I argue back, "We should be evacuating all the kids out of here."  
"Where is safe for them, Casey?" she snaps irritably.  
"Nowhere, but there're places where it's less dangerous. Goodsprings, for one."  
"What kind of mother is going to be separated from them? What kind of father will be able to take their children being taken away from them when he needs them most?"  
"You say this while your child is loading a gun," I yell back and load a clip, "Those damn Powder Gangers will be at our door any second! They want payback for what we did to them on Sunday!We need to get the kids out of here so they can't get hurt! We can hold them back, no problem, but I don't want to be at another damned funeral for a death we could have prevented!"  
"Watch your language! You're letting your emotions control you again, Casey. Moving the kids will mean taking more soldiersaway from Atkinson, when they're needed here. The Powder Gangers will kidnap them and use them for leverage, or worse!"  
I scowl and pick up the gun, "I'm going to my room. Call me if I have to start running somewhere or hide underneath my bed."  
I slam the door to my room behind me and look at my bag that I had stuffed with food, clothes and hid my 9mm underneath it with my clip tucked inside ready for action. Mom and Dad told me not to do this, but I told them that it made me feel prepared, so they didn't protest it again. I lie on my bed and flip through a history book Mom gave me. I read for a few hours, listening to the sounds of the nervous soldiers patrolling the town around me.  
I look outside and judge the time to be around 5PM. I get up and walk downstairs and help Mom with dinner. We eat in silence, and I finish my plate.  
"Go to bed, Casey," Mom smiles comfortingly, "You need your rest."  
I sigh and nod. I crawl into bed and pull the covers over me after removing my 9mm from my bag and putting it underneath my pillow. I curl myself up into a ball and shiver when I close my eyes. All I can see is Jacob underneath me, bleeding out and having his blood spilled onto my fingers while he stares up at me with terror in his eyes. I pull my blanket over my head and start crying into my pillow so Mom won't hear me. My brain starts working overtime thinking about him. It couldn't be my fault, it couldn't have. I couldn't have done anything to help him, couldn't I? I roll onto my back and look up at the ceiling. Jacob and I weren't anything special, we were skimming between friends and friendly acquaintances, it was nothing personal, we were just never really that close. He needed me, and I didn't do anything. Oh man, I'm sorry Jacob…

I jolt awake a feel a sharp wave of heat against my body. I hear yelling outside and screaming, and that's all I need to jump onto my feet and grab my gun.  
"Mom?!" I shout and throw my door open and run into my parent's room. Mom isn't there. I double back into my room and frantically change into my jeans and jacket when I start to hear gunfire. No, no, this isn't happening. I hesitate when my head starts to feel heavy and my hand grips the strap on my bag. What do I do? What do I do?"  
I spin around on one heel and throw my bag over my shoulder, "Find Dad, Casey," I sigh as I run down the stairs with my gun in my hand, "He'll know what to do."  
I open the door and almost scream. Flames are licking along thehouses around Atkinson, and I see people clambering over the walls. My neighbours are all firing gunshots outside their windows, some are screaming at their family members to put out fires around their homes or find more ammo. The heat is a constant punch against my face, for every ball of fire that rises from a fire bomb, it sends a heat wave around the town. Soldiers who don't carry rifles run around carrying buckets and desperately try to put out some fires. Some fires have engulfed around houses, and I don't know if I can hear screaming from the inside or if it's just my imagination.  
"Dad!" I shout as I run to Dad's usual guard post, "Mom?!"  
"Go back into your house, Casey!" a soldier shouts at me, "Go inside!"  
I ignore him and push past him through the running soldiers. I see the familiar blue jackets of the Powder Gangers and one lands a couple of feet in front of me. I point and shoot at his chest, sending him flying back onto the ground, screaming.  
"Casey!" Dad shouts, slamming into me sideways and tackling me onto the ground.  
"Dad!" I howl and look up at him, "Where's Mom?"  
"She's running to Goodsprings," he shouts at me over the noise of the gunfire, "Run there, Casey! Run and don't stop no matter what you do!"  
"Go with me," I shout back at him, getting onto my feet and tugging at his hand, "Come on!"  
"No! I need to make sure everybody is safe and battle these men back!"  
"Screw that!" I shout and yank hard on his hand, "Come with me Dad! Please!"  
"Run!" he shouts and pushes me in the direction of the exit and hands me his rifle.  
"… Dad?" I look up at him with alarmed eyes.  
"For God's sake, Casey! Run!"  
I start running, and I start running hard. My feet slam hard on the dirt path as bullets whiz around behind me. I turn around and look over at Atkinson, burning with moans and screams creeping through the air. I wipe my eyes and shake my head, "What the hell happened?" I whisper and put my hands behind my head. I see a group of Powder Gangers running for the gate, and I suddenly feel something inside of me. In a flash of anger, I raise my Dad's rifle. It weighs nothing and I grip it tightly and fire. One shot hits one Ganger in the back and he falls to the ground. Before the others can turn around I've shot them from a 100 metre distance, and I only realise what I've done when they lie, writhing on the ground and my rifle is making click noises as it almost cries out for an empty barrel. I know if I stop to think about it I'll throw up, so I turn around and start running to Goodsprings.

I double time it and make it there in an hour, where someone is waiting for me. I can't make the person out from the darkness, but they aren't wearing a blue jacket, so I don't try to shoot them with my pistol.  
"Easy there!" someone gasps and wraps their arms around me to stop my running.  
"Where's my Mom?" I cough and try to push past him.  
"Easy now," it's a gentle female voice, "Settle down, you're safe…"  
I feel someone gently taking the gun off of me and my fingers spring away from it.  
"Up we go, kid," another voice grumbles as he lifts me up, "You're in Goodsprings, you're safe."  
Someone carries me into a house, a warm, cozy little house.  
"I'm a doctor, OK?" he says gently when I look up at his face. He's an old man, with a bald head and a small moustache, "Your feet are all ripped up, I'm gonna clean it up, alright?"  
"Alright." I look down and realise that I had neglected to put on shoes in my fit to leave the house. My feet are bleeding and I imagine would probably be infected unless cleaned out soon.  
He lies me down onto a comfortable bed and gives me something to drink.  
"Where's my mother?"  
"She's fine," he concentrates on gently cleaning out my feet.  
"Thank you for this," I sigh.  
"No need to thank me, kiddo," he shakes his head, "I'm a doctor, just call me Doc Mitchell."  
"I'm Casey. I'm sorry I don't have any money on me at the moment."  
"Eh… consider this one on the house," he chuckles and nods at me, "Now, guess what?"  
"What?"  
"Look down at your hand."  
I look down and see my hands are shaking really badly. Even when I concentrate I can't stop it.  
"Relax now, I'll give you something to soothe your nerves," he smiles delicately and injects me with something I can only assume is morphine. Before I can even protest, I'm out like a light.


	3. Chapter 3

I groan as I wake up. I see a bright light and I groan when it almost blinds me. I look away from the light above my head and see a beautiful woman smiling at me. Her golden brown hair glimmers in the sun, and she has a rifle strapped to her back. I inhale sharply and jolt upright.  
"Woah, easy," she says gently, "You're safe, relax."  
I look up at her and sigh, "Where's my parents?"  
She shakes her head, "They'll be here soon. How're your feet feeling?"  
"They hurt a little," I sigh, "But I'll be alright."  
"What's your name, sugar?"  
"I'm Casey."  
"I'm Sunny Smiles."  
I open my mouth to say something but she jolts out a hand to stop me, "Don't, I've heard every joke you could ever think of. You got a last name, Casey?"  
"Why do you need to know?" I frown, "Just ask my Dad."  
"His first name is Robert?"  
"Yeah… why?"  
Sunny nods and smiles at me, "Listen, you need to have some breakfast."  
"No, I want to see my parents," I say irritably, "I can wait to eat."  
Sunny… well… smiles, like she has since I first looked at her.  
"I was the one who stopped you when you came tearin' through the town. I thought that you'd run straight through me. Listen, your Mom told me that you have to eat before she talks to you."  
"Fine," I sigh as she places a tray of food on my lap, "Damn… my feet are screwed."  
"Eh they'll get better, it's just a few bad cuts," she shrugs. I shovel the food down my mouth, and Sunny chuckles, "Damn, Casey. You don't have good table manners."  
I look up at her with a sour look on my face, "Can I see my parents now? Please?"  
Sunny's smiling nature suddenly fades away slightly, and that's all it takes for my brain to kick into gear. Sunny asked me for my last name, then clarified that my father's name was Robert. Dad always introduces himself as Robert, never by his full name. Mom would be there to tell Sunny his name… unless she wasn't at Goodsprings to begin with.

I stand up, but my feet sear in pain. I howl and fall back onto the bed.  
"Your feet are still tender, Casey," Sunny says gently and grips my shoulders firmly, "You need to rest."  
"I want to see my mother and father right now!" I shout at her.  
Sunny shakes her head and looks down at the ground, her fingers running along my shoulders as if trying to soothe me. No…  
"No..." I look down and tears burn in my eyes.  
"Easy, Casey," she says gently, "I am so sorry."  
A bomb goes off in my skull. I can't move or think of something coherent or useful.  
"D- Dad said that Mom was here already…" I stutter and fight back tears. I really don't want to start crying in front of Sunny, I'm not a damn child.  
"You were the only one that made it here by themselves, Casey," she shakes her head and pulls me into a hug, "I'm so sorry."  
"Then they're back home," I look up at her urgently, "I just have to go back home!"  
Sunny crouches down to meet my eye level, and my face burns with embarrassment. I remember whenever one soldier didn't make it home. They always had kids, some of them young, around 7 or 8. Someone would always crouch down to the kid and be in eye level with them, and then they'd say that Daddy wasn't coming home.  
I refuse to cry, mainly because I don't want to be weak in front of Sunny... because… because Dad… he never told me to be weak… I feel warm fingers touching mine, gently spreading them out into an open fist. I feel something cool being placed into my fingers, and I refuse to look down at it. My thumb brushes against the surface, it's bumpy and rigid, but cool to the touch. Something like a string runs down my wrist and along my forearm, like a chain. I look down at it and I feel a sob rising in my throat, desperate for a release that I'm not willing to give. I cough it back as I look at my father's dog tags. One half of it is charred away from what looks like a fire, and when I brush against it fragments of fragile metal scuff trickle down like black snow onto my jeans. Only my father's first name is shown on tags, his last name is charred away beyond recognition. I shake my head down it, and I feel sick. Sunny pulls me tightly into a hug, but I don't move. My father's dead, my mother's probably dead as well because she'd be with me if she was alive. Sunny smells like… well… the sun. Her jacket is warm from being bathed in the bright early morning sunlight and I rest my head against it, not saying anything. I breathe deeply to try and calm myself down, and I'm amazed that she hasn't let go of me yet. I'm not hugging her, I'm just sitting pointlessly there. He's gone, I'll never go hunting with him again, I'll never play cards with him again, he'll never teach me things or protect me. I'm on my own. I am entirely alone. This doesn't draw a tear from me, crying won't help anything.  
"Mom?" I mumble at her and lightly push her off of me.  
Sunny's face lightens slightly, a glimmer of hope crosses her eyes and I raise an eyebrow at her.  
"Your mother… she's alive."  
"Alive?!" I splutter, "Well why didn't you tell me in the first place?!"  
The smile on her face is gone, and she shakes her head simply.

"While you were asleep, we sent a few guards in Goodsprings to go check out Atkinson. We found a few survivors of the attack, around five."  
"Five?" I croak.  
"Well we found twenty-five people in Atkinson; I imagine there was around 120 there, right? It just meant some people got out, like you. I imagine they just went to Primm. It isn't far and has some small NCR presence."  
"Fine, where's my mother?" I almost yell irritably.  
"She's in a hospital bed in the other side of the house."  
I lunge for the doorway out of my room, but Sunny grabs me by my waist and shoves me firmly back onto the ground.  
"Now listen to me," she says firmly, "I know you're hurtin' I can't even begin to imagine the crap that you've been through, but you need to listen to me. Doc Mitchell's done everything that he can, but we don't think that she'll…"  
I look down and gulp back tears, "I want to see her."  
Sunny nods at me and wheels in a wheelchair, "Mitchell said that you aren't supposed to be on your feet. I am sorry that I had to lie to you, Casey…"  
"Whatever. Just let me see her."

Sunny wheels me down the hall. It's oddly silent, with a cosy atmosphere that only makes me more stressed out and nervous. It just feels so out of place. As we get closer, I start to smell the horrible smell of plaster and drugs. Sunny opens the door and I scrunch my eyes tight, bracing myself before I open them. My mother is lying on a hospital bed, wrapped in bandages. Her breathing is ragged and her blonde hair is completely gone, now shaved off to properly tend to a valley of stitched cuts and bruises.  
"Mom," I croak. Both of her eyes are cracked slightly open and she looks at me. Don't cry in front of her Casey, don't cry.  
Sunny pushes me toward her, nods, and leaves.  
"Mom," I gasp and reach out to hold her bandaged hand. Her face twists in pain, and her eyes brim with tears. Half of her face is severely burned, her body soggy with burn cream. I take my hand away and blink away the tears in my eyes.  
"You're going to be fine, Mom," I smile softly, "You're going to get better, OK?"  
Her mouth is covered with a bandage, so she doesn't speak.  
"I'll make sure that nobody hurts you, Mom," I say firmly, "I won't anybody near you."  
I lean back in my chair and shake my head, "I'm going to get better, and so are you. I'm going to work, save up my money, and I'll take you to that hospital in the city that Dad talked about. They'll know what to do there."  
I bow my head down and tears sting my eyes, "I thought you were safe already. Dad told me that you were here, with the kids, and you were safe. If I- if I had of known…" I put my head in my hands and shake my head, "I am so sorry, Mom. I should have fought, I should have made sure you weren't there."  
Mom limply moves her head back and forth a few inches, shaking her head. I look down at my feet, which are stinging and throbbing painfully. The bandages itch like crazy and I lean my head down, "I am so sorry… so sorry…"

January 12th

I step out into Goodsprings with only light bandages on my feet that are covered by a pair of my shoes. I pull my hat over my head and sigh. Goodsprings is slightly smaller than Atkinson, with people farming their crops and herding Brahmin, but I'm in no mood to be happy about the pleasantness of it all. I walk down the steps to the medical clinic, nodding at Doc Mitchell as he sits on a chair on his porch, sipping on a Sarsaparilla.  
"I'm going to go out," I say slightly awkwardly, "Will that be OK?"  
Doc Mitchell has tended to Mom and I's wounds almost around the clock since we got here, and I intend to pay it back to him. He nods and smiles, the bristles on his moustache rise as he does so, "You go and get your mind off things, alright kiddo? Go and enjoy yourself, your Momma's alright in my hands."  
I manage a small smile at him and start to walk out into Goodsprings, not entirely sure what I'm going to do. Mom is barely hanging on, she hasn't been able to speak and her skin is starting to get infected. I slept in the same room as her, one night. In the morning I woke up to Doc Mitchell hurriedly walking in and shutting the curtains to the windows that overlooked the main street into Goodsprings. I pretended to be asleep and he left after he did that. When he left I hobbled to the window and looked out. Bodies were being moved into the town and were covered in white sheets, being pulled in on wagons. NCR soldiers guarded the bodies and allowed some Goodsprings civilians to carefully place them into coffins with "Atkinson" stencilled onto them. My throat closed after that and I crawled back into bed, pulled the blankets over my head, and tried not to cry. I didn't last long. My mother couldn't comfort me, and I didn't have Dad to tell me to toughen up. For now, I'm completely alone.

My chest still feels heavy as I walk into the main town square. I look around for something to do, anything, when I see Sunny walk towards me.  
"Look who's up and out of bed," she grins and gives me a hug. My face burns red with embarrassment when she hugs me, considering every single time she's seen me, I've been an emotional wreck and constantly holding back tears. She eventually backs away from me and lifts up the brim of my hat and smirks at me, "You look lost, don't cha?"  
I take a step back and look at the floor, my face still burning red.  
"You don't say much, do you?" she chuckles.  
"I'm not in a very talkative mood," I mumble and cross my arms, my eyes drilling holes into the dirt beneath my feet.  
"Then you won't get far here in way of friends. In the city, maybe, but here, no."  
I sigh and shake my head, not saying anything.  
"Come on, Casey. How old are you?"  
"I'm… 18," I lie, though I don't know why.  
"You up to go hunting then?"  
"Ow…" I wince when my cheat throbs with pain. An image of Dad flashes through my head and I wince, hunting won't be the same anymore, will it?  
"Come on, there's 50 caps in it for you."  
"50 caps?" I frown and look up.  
She smiles and hands me a rifle, "Here. We'll make a game out of it."  
Oh god, she's treating me like a child. Probably because I'm acting like one, I guess.  
I hear a dog barking and I look around and see a dog barking and running towards me.  
"Hey, pooch," I mumble and softly pat the dog's fur when it sits down in front of me.  
"This is Cheyenne," Sunny grins and ruffles the dog's fur, "She's my baby. She's also good at sniffing out geckos. So, you're gonna come, Casey?"  
"Um… yeah I guess," I sigh.

Sunny and I walk with Cheyenne for a couple of minutes until Goodsprings is out of our sight. We walk up to a small well and I take a drink from it.  
"You know how to shoot the rifle?" Sunny asks when I splash some water on my face. I nod and she smiles and points at a small little gecko feeding on some plants on the ground greedily.  
"Ugh, seriously?" I grumble and cock a bullet into the rifle. I aim down the sights and begin to take a breath. I remember the day my Dad taught me how to shoot, and he made me feel safe when I did it. For some reason I've never taken into account getting hurt until now. I wince and my hands tremble as I yank impulsively on the trigger. My bullet sails wide and slams into a rocky wall a few feet from the gecko, and it scuttles away out of sight.  
"Dammit!" I wail and angrily cock a new bullet in. You stupid idiot, pull yourself together.  
"Easy, Casey," Sunny chuckles, "It isn't that bad, you're just rusty." I run around and spot the gecko still running away.  
Do this for Dad, Casey. Make him proud…  
I take a deep breath, my mind running overtime with a combined invasion of both anger and desperation. I need to make this shot, I need to make Dad proud and Sunny not think I'm a little kid. I need to make this shot. I take a deep breath, do my best to clear my mind, loosen my back and squeeze the trigger. I close my eyes and open them, and I grin when I see the sight of a dead gecko.  
"Well, look at that," Sunny grins. I crack a smile and lower my gun. I feel Sunny brush past me, "Come on, let's go see if we can't find another gecko."

After two hours of hunting, Sunny and I lean against the side of a house. Hunting managed to clear my mind a little, to change my focus from trying to figure out what to do now to simply focusing on how to shoot this gecko. I thank her as we sit down, but it doesn't take long for all of my problems to return to me like a river and my head to be clouded with doubt and misery again.  
"You shoot with a mean accuracy, kid," she smiles and takes a drink from a canteen.  
"My Dad taught me when I was a little," I mumble and look down at the rifle.  
"How old did you say you were?"  
"Why do you need to know?" I frown and look at her.  
"Because I know that you aren't 18," she chuckles.  
I sigh and shake my head, "I'm… I'm 17."  
"How long until you're 18?"  
"I turn 18 in December," I sigh and look down sheepishly.  
She grins and looks away, "Why did you lie?"  
I stand up, "I don't want to talk about this. I need to go and check on Mom."  
"Ah, don't be a baby," she laughs, "Come on, we'll hang out some more."  
I ignore her and turn around the corner and gasp. I see three large black dots, rapidly approaching and growing larger and larger.  
"Sunny!" I call out, getting her to jump up and turn around beside me.

Within ten minutes Goodsprings is crawling with NCR soldiers, all of them shouting orders at each other and basically ignoring the civilians.  
"Do you know these people?" Sunny asks as I walk into Doc Mitchell's office and slam the door behind us.  
"What the hell is going on out there?" Doc Mitchell himself shouts as I shut the door.  
"NCR's here in droves," I say firmly, "I don't know why they're here, so don't ask."  
"What's the problem then?"  
Before I can even open my mouth I hear a loud, strength sapping cry coming from my mother's room.  
I run into the room and see her tilting her head and looking outside at the soldiers patrolling the area, an almost identical representation of our NCR soldiers back home.  
"It's OK, Mom," I say gently and sit down beside her. My head swims with memories that are parallel to what happens outside, and how much I would give to be back there. I scrunch my eyes tight, but I don't dare cry in front of my mother.  
"Easy now, ma'am," Mitchell says gently and firmly.  
Sunny stands at the doorway, looking lost and confused. I look over at her, with a strong look on my face, "Are your people safe?"  
Sunny shrugs and looks at me, "I'm more concerned about you now, to be honest."  
"Forget about me," I say firmly, "Go look after your people."  
Sunny rolls her eyes and grabs me by my arm, earning a wail from my mother when I break away from her.  
"What the heck are you doing?!" I shout. I rip my arm away and reach back to Mom. I won't let this be like Jacob, I'm not going to stand by and affect her pain in a negative way. I still see him in my nightmares, and I still feel an agonising punch of regret when I realise that Jacob died hating me. I could have done something, he expected me to know what to do, because he would know and help me if I was in his situation. If I hadn't of taken over Dad's shift, Jacob wouldn't have climbed up to Dad's watch tower to talk to me, then get shot when I went to go back down. In fact, why didn't they shoot me instead? I was right there, sitting around having a heart attack, they could have easily picked me off at any time, or even Dad for that matter, but no, he shot Jacob, and all I could do was mumble that he was OK, because I was weak. I didn't think, I could have at least _pretended _to do something to comfort him before he died. Even if it meant cleaning his wounds with a canteen, it would have done nothing, but to a man with a bullet wound in his chest, it would have meant at least a _little _to him. Now, when the only person I have left is my mother, I'm not going to make this worse for her.  
"Casey," Sunny says gently and puts a hand on my shoulder, "The NCR might be looking for you two, or for your Dad. You'll be fine."  
I look down at Mom and delicately brush my thumb against her bandaged palm, "I will be right back. I'm going to talk to them, alright? I'll see if we can find a place to stay after you get better. Everything's going to be fine, Mom, I promise."  
She looks calmly at me and gives a small nod, and I give her an assuring smile before Sunny and I leave.

Sunny guides me to an NCR Commander, still holding me by the arm gently. He looks like any high ranking officer, gruff, proud, clearly knowing what he's doing, and doing it with a sense of authority that makes all of his soldiers too uneasy to question him.  
"Yes?" he sighs irritably, looking with a bemused expression at the two of us, both dusty and unkept from a day running around under the sun.  
"Excuse me," Sunny says sweetly, "Are you here regarding Atkinson?"  
"I'm sorry ma'am, that information can't be disclosed to-"  
"Casey here is a survivor," she pushes me literally against him and I look up at him, slightly alarmed.  
The Commander takes a step back and looks at me, chuckling, "You know… you're the spitting image of your father."  
"You knew my Dad?" I frown.  
"Yes, Robert and I were friends from Boot Camp. I _am_ here on Atkinson business, but not to look for survivors. Though I am glad you made it out OK, kid."  
"What are you here for, then?"  
"That isn't for civilians to know."  
"Bullshit!" Sunny says firmly, brushing past me and getting in the Commander's face, "You're terrorising _my _town! Least you fuckers can do is tell us what the hell you're doing here!"  
The Commander ignores Sunny and turns away from the both of us and starts to yell something to his troops.  
"Don't bother yelling with Commanders, Sunny," I try to hide the smirk on my face when I look at her exasperated expression. I don't do a very good job of it, because Sunny scowls at me and storms away.  
"Kid," the Commander calls me back.  
"Yes, sir?" I look over my shoulder and see him walking towards me. He lowers his voice and mumbles, "You feel like taking down some Powder Gangers?"  
I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms, "How so?"  
"I saw you walking around with a rifle before you and your friend walked up. You know how to use one?"  
"Yeah…"  
"So if I was to… bring you along to have a look at some Powder Gangers who helped to burn down Atkinson… what would you say?"  
"I'd say 'Hell yeah'," I smirk. He laughs and claps my shoulder, "Be ready for a message from my people, then. Just…. Don't tell anybody about this, say you're going hunting or something. It's sensitive intelligence, we can't risk any Gangers finding out we're coming for them."  
I nod and grin. Dad was always big on karma and justice, doing this would be justice for my friends, my neighbours, for my family. I'll be with NCR officials, it'll be poetic justice; the only child of one of the fallen NCR avenging her father's death. Mom would go nuts when I got back… maybe I'll tell her when she gets better, so I don't have to risk straining her heart. Yeah… I'll definitely wait until she's better before I tell her. For her sake.


	4. Chapter 4

January 16th

"Come on," Sunny grins and nudges my shoulder, "Think about it!"  
"I honestly don't see the point."  
"Don't be stubborn! Who would win in a fight between a robot and a giant gecko?"  
Oh man… why is this happening to me? Sunny and I are leaning against one of the Goodsprings water sources, hiding from the constant annoyance that is the sun. Our rifles are beside us, probably cooking and are going to be scalding to touch. I _was _enjoying the quiet, then Sunny must have picked up that I was in a bad mood, which I generally am in. Her response to this is always to make up childish questions and arguments, in a way to sort of make me feel better. It kind of irritates me how she does this constantly, seeing as seventeen to her might as well mean seven, but I can see her heart's in the right place.

The NCR has pretty much barged itself into Goodsprings. I like this town; it's quiet, calm, with good, decent people. It sucks to see them being pushed around like this, and it ticks me off. I tell myself it's because the NCR is pissed, it isn't every day when a NCR community gets overrun by an outlaw gang, but now I'm not so sure. Food that was originally meant for us has been stripped and taken to other villages as payment for "extra security". Sunny pretends that she doesn't mind, but I can see the anger in her eyes when she sees an NCR grunts arguing with a farmer. Sunny sticks to me like glue, never letting me out of her sight the second I step out of Doc Mitchell's clinic every morning. I wouldn't mind some time to myself, to be honest, but I can see how keeping an eye on an impulsive, angry teenager with a gun would be a priority to some people.

"I'm going to go for a walk," I mutter and stand up.  
"I'll go with you," Sunny says cheerfully, getting up and swinging her gun strap over her shoulder.  
"No, I just- I need to be alone for a second, alright?"  
Sunny raises her eyebrows in surprise, before nodding, "Alright… I'll go… do something then."  
I kick myself for sounding like a selfish idiot and lightly kick the dirt, "Sorry I- I just need time to think about Mom and stuff… I need to think about what I'm gonna do."  
Sunny's expression also softens, and she nods, "I understand. Give me a holler if you need help with something, alright Case?"  
I nod and walk off by myself. When I see Sunny walk into the tavern, I immediately walk into the NCR camp.

I talk to the Commander, still not knowing his name, and he looks surprisingly excited to see me. He announces, quietly, to me that "the attack is being held at midnight".

Now, I've grown up with NCR soldiers, and I've overheard more plans than I know what to do with. "The attack is being held at midnight" isn't _nearly _enough information for me to pass this off as a proper briefing. How many people are going? What kind of people are we bringing? Medics, snipers, machine gunners? What weapons are we bringing? How long will we be gone for? Will we have reinforcements? How many reinforcements? What's the objective? Do we kill on sight or try to take prisoners? All of these questions I ask him, as the only descendent of an NCR soldier, I shouldn't be at risk of it. The Commander gives me a look and he takes a step back, and I just stare back.  
"Casey…" he says with a gentle, patronising tone, "If you aren't up for this, you don't have to go."  
I frown at him and the Commander chuckles, "Don't pout your lip. You want to avenge your friends and your Daddy? Pick up a gun then, this'll be the safest and best shot you can take."  
"I'm not scared," I snap at his smug face, "Give me a gun, then."  
He smirks at me and tilts his head to a tent. I follow him inside and he slaps an NCR helmet on my head. He laughs as the helmet falls further down my head and covers my eyes, the front resting against the bridge of my nose. I look down as my face turns red and he lifts the helmet off.  
He puts another helmet on my head, this time fitting properly and he nods approvingly, "Now you look the part. Bring your own weapons, meet us at the hilltop at midnight. We won't wait for you, and we'll probably shoot you on sight if you come up behind us and we can't identify you right away."  
I give him a look and he pulls my hand for him to shake, "See you at midnight, kid."

…

I don't sleep, staying completely still underneath the blanket, clutching my handgun in my hand. I listen to the sound of my mother's ragged, slightly laboured breathing and look at the ticking clock on the wall.

At half to eleven I get up. All of my stuff was packed into a bag and I creep out of the room.  
"Casey…?" Mom murmurs, rolling over and looking at me.

"Yeah, Mom?" I whisper.  
"Where are you going?"

It's dark, so my mother can't see my burning red face, "I'm going to help Sunny with a gecko problem. I'll be back this afternoon at the most, I promise."  
"What time is it now?"

"Around three, ma."

"OK, be safe," she exhales as she settles back down to sleep, "I love you."

"You too."

I walk outside Doc Mitchell's house, close the door behind me, and start to run. I can see a few soldiers already jogging up the hill so I know that it's worth to hurry. I follow them for at least two miles, before climbing up a slopped hill. I reach up I look down, dressed in filthy jeans and a shirt, I look disastrously out of place. I only have an NCR helmet on and I get a few odd looks when I meld in with the crowd.

I load my handgun and turn off the safety, looking severely out of place and some people glance at me in the midst of conversation.

"Casey!" he grins, walking up to me and clapping his hands on my shoulders, "You made it!"

"Yeah…?" I frown, "Am I… supposed to be here?"

"Oh don't look so unsure of yourself," he scoffs, "Of course you are!"

He looks around the small crowd of soldiers, before shoving me toward one and saying, "Stick with him."  
I stop barely inches from colliding with him and he grunts down at me, "The fuck are you?"

"It doesn't matter who she is, Sargent. I'm giving you an order to look after her."

The Commander smiles and turns his back on me, walking away and addressing his soldiers, "Alright people, let's have this done by sunrise, understood?"

I look down at the small settlement before us. It's nothing major, a few rusted old buses serve as the community's main borders, with only one or two people roaming the borders with guns.  
"Casey," the Commander nods, "Stay with him, alright?"

He casually turns around and points at the community, "Alright people, let's get this done good and fast."

Three NCR soldiers advance and quickly dispatch the men on the buses using silenced weapons. Quick shots in the head cause the victims not to make any noise and the roughly twenty of us advance. I keep getting shoved along when I don't move fast enough, and I begin to regret agreeing to this. Five metres from the gate I hear a piercing scream and I stop dead in my tracks when I see five black ovals sailing over the gate into the village. I look blankly at the soldier next to me, before I hear an ear shredding explosion. My ears ring and I drop onto my knees as a high pitched shrill invades my hearing. I paw at my ears desperately, trying to almost scoop out the pain with my fingers in shock, before someone yanks me to my feet. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here.

"Pull it together, kid!" a soldier roars, bringing up his hand and slapping my cheek. I feel a deep surge of adrenaline and a writhing feeling in my stomach. All I can hear are piercing screams and gunfire, sometimes explosions. I can barely keep my feet as I run, missing the gate into the village and slamming shoulder first into the barrier. I slide down the wall and look at my hands, they're shaking terribly. I limply grasp them, holding onto both of them. I don't want to be here. I really don't want to be here. I fight back tears and shakily get up onto my feet. I look up at the hill and lock eyes with the Commander. His entire body is shaking with laughter as he looks down at me, not even trying to hide it when he sees me looking up at him.

My father would think of me this way, he would not even begin to accept me for the coward I am right now. I was raised to defend myself, and now I can barely hold myself together. I wanted to make him proud, I really did. I needed to do _something_, and I did _nothing_. My handgun sits down beside me, almost grinning up at me. I take in a few shaky breaths and try to calm myself down, blocking out the hysterical screaming. I lean against the wall to steady myself when a grenade detonates barely ten metres away from me. The bus shakes and I look to my right just in time to see a small woman come sprinting out of the village, an NCR soldier hot on her tail without a rifle.

Confusion manages to replace sheer panic and terror, as I watch the man chase the screaming woman. I manage to figure out how to move and chase after him, assuming he couldn't out run a civilian and obviously he wouldn't kill her. The chase is short, I can see a wound in the woman's thigh because it's glistening red. The soldier wraps his arms firmly around her stomach and tackles her onto the ground. I slow down, only at a small jog as I close in on the remaining ten metres between myself and the two. The soldier slowly puts a hand behind his back, ignoring the woman screaming and thrashing underneath him. I see the knife before she does, and I instinctively shout, "Let her go!"

The soldier stops, before looking over his shoulder at me. He frowns, the knife still in his hand, "Can I help you, kid?"

He says it with a husky tone in his voice and utter amusement as I stand stupidly over him, with my hands at my sides and a hysterical squeal for an order. I look over my shoulder at the burning buildings behind me, the screaming's died down a little, but not the gunfire. Atkinson is almost identical to this, women and children suffering as… I don't think I've seen a single Powder Ganger yet. I haven't seen a single one, and we're the ones we're supposed to be shooting. I'm sure there were grown men there, but even the ones who were manning the barrier weren't wearing traditional Powder Ganger stuff, only… civilian clothes. Civilians…

"Enough," I try to sound firm to the soldier, even though I think I look about as intimidating as a mole rat pup, "She's had enough."

The soldier rolls his eyes and raises the knife, "I'll take care of you once I'm done here."

"Stop," I shout, frantically unholstering my weapon and pointing it at him, "I won't let you hurt her. She hasn't done anything."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, "Put that thing down, go help someone carry out the bod-"

I don't think the others heard my gunshot, or the woman's scream as the soldier slumps dead on top of her. When I wrench his dead body away, her hair and her face is stained red and she's completely hysterical. I lose my footing and slump onto the ground again, only this time I start crying. I throw away my gun and bury my face in my hands.

"I'm sorry Dad!" I howl, my face turning red and my mouth dry, "I didn't want to! I didn't mean it!"

Killing an NCR soldier is by far the worst crime anybody can citizen ever "commit", according to NCR officials. If you're a soldier, you might get lucky and get sent to either one of the labour sites (mining, clearing away rubble etc), or sent to the correctional facility. Civilians always get the death penalty.

"Run!" the woman begs, hitting my arm, "You need to run!"

I look up and see an NCR soldier watching from a hill, binoculars pointed right at me. At first, I don't move, only closing my eyes to try and accept death as it comes to me in the form of a bullet. The woman shouts and screams at me hysterically. I wait another second, when the bullet doesn't come, or shouting for them to find me, I turn around and start running.

My brain doesn't process much while I run for at least ten minutes, but the only thing that snaps me back into reality when I feel someone wrapping her arms around me.

"Easy, Casey! Stop!"

I look over my shoulder and see Sunny trying to hold me steady as I thrash in her arms, "Come on, follow me."  
I'm dragged around Goodsprings to a small house on the outskirts. I'm in a hysterical state when she unlocks the door and shoves me inside.

"Don't kill me!" I beg, "I'm sorry! Don't hurt my mother! I won't fight, I swear!"

Sunny grabs me by my arm and drags me into her bedroom. She pushes the bed aside and pulls off the rug, opening a small hatch leading to a hole barely big enough for me to fit in, "Get in."

"Please!" I beg, "I need to run!"

"I'm saving your life, Casey!" Sunny snaps, "Get in there and don't come out until I get you."

I wince and look desperately up at her as I sink into some kind of metal that I can't see because of the darkness, "What the hell am I sitting on?"

"My stash of bottle caps," she says simply, before reaching down and tying my wrists together and gagging my mouth.

"Why?!" I shout against the gag.

"Case, you mean something to me, but the NCR will probably be looking for you. I'm going to hide you, as best as I can, but I'm not trading 20+ lives for yours. Just stay here, alright? I won't give you up so easily, kid."

She shuts the door and I'm plunged into complete darkness.

…

I can't get comfortable, no matter how much I move myself I cannot sit without jagged metal edges jamming themselves against me. I stay completely still when I realise how much noise I'm making. I'm up to my neck in the stuff, if I crouch down I disappear completely into it. I sink down, recoiling as the horrible stench of 200 year old, rusted metal comes within inches of my nose. My heart thuds rapidly, my mouth goes dry, and panic begins to return. My breathing goes ragged and my face flushes bright red. My Dad would be ashamed of me, when I was supposed to give out pay back I ended up being a coward and a traitor. He despised people who killed NCR, thought of them as ultimate scum. What would mom- oh no.

I thrash up from the metal ocean, shouting out for my mother. The first place they will search is with her, I have no clue what they will do when they find her. I move my legs so they both press against the sides of my wooden box, supporting myself as I ram my palm against the lid, it doesn't budge. I smack at it with my binded wrists, again and again, screaming for Sunny even though it would sound like a muffled groan. I don't hear a reply. I keep smashing at it, realising Sunny must have locked it to keep me in, both to save my life and to hold me for a prisoner if need be. My legs slip and I sink back down. I can't breathe, my eyes are blurry and I fall back uselessly onto the pile of money.

I keep sinking further and further down the pile for what seems like years. I can only hear the sound of my ragged breathing and the chiming bottle caps whenever I thrash about in a sudden surge of adrenaline to get free. I think I heard a gunshot, but I'm not 100% sure. Fatigue has started to settle in. Half of my body is completely submerged, and I have to push and pull hard to move around in it. My eyes start to feel heavy, and I struggle to stay awake. I can't do anything like this, if I'm caught I'm in trouble . I can't use my teeth to bite, my fists to punch, or my feet to kick. All I can do is sleep and hope I have some strength back when I wake up.

"Casey?... Casey…?"

I bat open my eyes and I hear a small cluttering noise. The door opens and I wake up completely. I have no clue which way is up, I don't remember facing down when I fell asleep and I cringe when I hear the ringing of bottle caps above me.

"Found you," Sunny sighs, allowing herself a small chuckle, "You alive? Make a sound, Case."

I make a grunt and I hear someone tugging me up by my legs. I'm dragged up and I look over, seeing Doc Mitchell sit down beside me when I'm dragged back onto flat ground. He removes the gag, and I go insane.

"What the heck is wrong with you?!" I shout, "You left me in there _all night_?! I thought something happened!"

"The NCR didn't leave until around three hours ago," Sunny says gently, "We needed to make sure."

"… What time is it?" I frown as Sunny unties my wrists.

"Around midnight, you must have been out of it."

"What if I suffocated?"

"You didn't," Sunny smiles assuringly as I rub my sore wrists, her voice breaking when she says "didn't". I look at Sunny, with her bloodshot eyes and exhausted expression.

"Easy, Casey," Doc Mitchell says gently as Sunny looks sympathetically at me.

"Where's Mom?" I pant as I catch my breath, looking back at her.

Sunny's eyes glaze over and I look over my shoulder at Doc Mitchell, his jaw firm and his hand on my shoulder.

"Don't," I beg, gripping Sunny's hand, "Please."

Sunny gives me a confused and sympathetic look as she grips my hand, "I'm sorry, Casey. I couldn't do anything… Casey?"

"…Which way did they go?"

"…I'm sorry?"

"Which way… did the _bastards _that killed my mother go?!"

"Casey…" Sunny whispers, "It's going to be OK. I just need you to sit down and try to gather your thoughts… We'll talk when you're feeling better."

"Feeling better?" I say through clenched teeth, amazed that one of them hasn't snapped off from the pressure I'm putting on them. I can feel myself balancing on a line between a hysterical emotional breakdown and a vicious, homicidal rampage through the town screaming for my mother and the people who killed her. I do my best to stay calm, keeping my sanity balanced and everything desperately together.

"Casey," Doc Mitchell says quietly, "I want you to move to that chair for me, OK?"

"I wanna stay here for a while," I mumble, lying down and resting my head against the cool wooden floor, serving as a makeshift anti-psychotic treatment for the time being.

"Uh… alright…" he says awkwardly, "When do you think you'll be getting up?"

"When I'm ready."

There's a short silence, before Sunny speaks up, "I'll look after her, anything happens and I'll give you a shout, alright?"

"Alright. Keep her in your sight at all times, got me?"

"Yeah."

I curl myself up into a ball and move my head so I nuzzle into my forearm, covering my face and listening to Doc Mitchell leaving. I hear Sunny moving around the room, locking something and eventually sitting down next to me.

I don't move when she slips off her jacket, lifting up my arm and placing it underneath there for a pillow. I don't say anything because I know I'm just barely hanging on. I don't want to accept the paralysing fear that's threatening to surface, the fact I'm an orphan, the fact that I'm seventeen years old, a traitor to my dead father and to the republic he died fighting for, and abandoner of my sickly mother when she needed me the most. I don't want to think about that now, because I know I won't survive the night if I do.


	5. Chapter 5

I drift in and out of being awake for most of the day. I don't cry, I don't scream or make any noise at all. Sunny moves around the house, checking on me every few minutes and asking if I'm OK. I always mumble a response before she moves on with whatever she's doing. She spends most of her time beside me, though. She doesn't patronise me or coddle me, she just sits down, reading and eating. Her dog, Cheyenne, sits down beside her, occasionally lapping at my hand. I reach my hand up every time and scratch her fur.

"Are you going to live on my floor forever?" Sunny says gently, a hand on my arm when late afternoon drags along, "You haven't eaten in more than a day."

Almost on cue my stomach growls and I allow myself to sit up properly. The side of my face feels warm and itchy from resting against my arm for so long, and my arm has marks from where the buttons of Sunny's jacket have dug into my skin.

I run a hand through my hair and accept the drink that Sunny offers me.

"What am I going to do?" I whisper.

"Casey…" Sunny sighs, "You'll be fine. You can stay with me if you want, until you get back up on your feet; get a job, that sort of thing."

"What happened?" I whisper, taking a sip and wincing from how sore my throat is.

Sunny hesitates, "I think Doc Mitchel could explain it a little bit better."

She turns around and opens the door, shouting for Doc Mitchel. His house is within shouting distance, because he opens up with window.

Sunny cooks me dinner, even though I'm not very hungry. She prepares me a plant salad, I pick the yucca out and eat only that. The taste reminds me of home, it both helps and hurts me.

"Not hungry, kid?" Doc Mitchel asks as he sits down.

"No…" I sigh, picking at the food with my fork.

"I am so sorry, kid. They already buried her, but I made sure they did it right, I already have somebody preparing a headstone."

"Why?" I whisper.

"Because it's a descent thing to do, your mother was a kind woman, and I know you loved her very much."

"Where's the NCR going?" I mutter.

Doc Mitchel sighs and leans forward, "Listen, kid. I've been looking at NCR troops walking in and out of this town for years now. I help their wounded, give them food, hell even have a few drinks with them. They're nice men and women, with honor and loyalty. In all honesty, I do not believe that those men were normal NCR personnel. I think, they're crooked."

"Crooked?" I grunt, stabbing into another hunk of fruit aggressively, "What made you think that?"

"Look, I know you grew up with the NCR, and you know that most of them are good people, just wanting to do their jobs."

"I know the people who did this are crooked!" I snap, "Do you think that the standard NCR troop goes around burning villages and killing innocent people?"

Doc Mitchel sighs, "Yeah… Sunny told me about that."

"How do _you _know?!" I snap at Sunny.

"I followed you, I saw you talking to the Commander. I'm not dumb, Casey."

"Sunny," Doc scolds.

"Look, you might still be wanted by the NCR, at the end of the day you still murdered an NCR soldier. And don't start with saying that he deserved it, it's the NCR's word against yours."

"Far out…" I mutter, "Do you know why, they attacked the settlement, I mean?"

Doc sighs, "The NCR's and the Powder Gangers have been at each others throats for a while, maybe a division wanted to take matters into their own hands. For retribution, maybe? Maybe to make the Powder Gangers retaliate and have the NCR make an excuse for a war to be waged, I have no clue. You and I both know that NCR doesn't operate like this, so I don't want you shooting up the next patrol you see."

"You don't want me… who the hell are you?!" I shout, "You can't order me around!"

"I didn't mean it like that, I've got your best interests in mind, kid," Doc says gently, "You just can't let this damage your image of the NCR?"

"Who are you? Their damned public relations officer?" Sunny frowns, "Let the kid breathe, for god's sake."

"Sorry…" he exhales, "Look, whatever the case, I'd recommend staying confined to the house for at least a few weeks, just to be sure."

"Where do they think I am?" I sigh irritably, rubbing my face with my palms in frustration.

"I said that you'd booked it north, most of your stuff was still… in your room, so they believed me," Sunny says uneasily, shifting in her seat.

"That doesn't prove anything, they could have thought I'd just be hiding."

"I made an effort to look like stuff had been tossed around a little bit, shoved some clothes into bags and stuff, enough to make it look like you were about to leave."

"My mother was right beside you, the entire time. You didn't think to move her?"

Doc and Sunny give each other an exasperated look, Sunny tearing up, "Casey… When… when I looked down at your mother…"

"Sunny had to make a choice," Doc says firmly, "If we moved your mother, your story would have been difficult to keep valid. They would have literally ripped this town apart and would have definitely found you. When Sunny ran up to NCR troops, shouting about how she saw you running for Highway '88, the first place they looked was your mother's room. They saw the bags, they saw your mother."

"Stop," I say sharply, my voice breaking as I shove my food away.

"I'm sorry," Sunny says quickly, picking up my food and standing up. I rest both of my elbows on the table and bury my face in my hands.

"If you need any help, I'd be more than happy to provide counselling or anything you need," Doc says as he stands up, "I have to go."

"My mother thought I left her," I whisper into my hands, "She died hating me."

"That isn't true Casey. She would have been happy that you got away," Sunny sits down beside me and laces her fingers together, "If you live, I think she'd be happy."

"I didn't want her to die," I whisper, "I should have surrendered or something…"

"They would have killed you. At the very least you would have been imprisoned for life. Your Dad was a soldier, what do you think he would have thought when you saved that woman?"

"But I killed-"

"You killed an NCR soldier who was going to kill a civilian. Casey…"

I stand up and run a hand through my hair, "I… don't feel good."

"You gonna puke?"

"No… just… not good… I'm gonna go lie down."

"Alright. You want something to read?"

"No… I… I just want to think about some stuff."

_February 18__th_

"Casey?"

I lift my head off my pillow, frowning and looking around, "Sunny?"

I sit up, rubbing the back of my head as I look at the time, 4AM. I know I won't be able to get back to bed. I call her name again, but I don't hear her respond. Anxiety starts to hit me and I walk up to her room and knock on the door, "Sunny?"

I hear a small groan and a yawn, "Casey?"

I open the door a crack and look inside. Sunny reaches over and turns on a light, rubbing her eyes tiredly as Cheyenne sleeps at her feet, "What's up? Did you have another nightmare?"

I roll my eyes at her, "You called me. What's up?"

"I didn't call you, Casey. Go back to bed."

"You did. You woke me up."

"I must have been talking in my sleep then," she smiles slightly.

"Well… it sounded like you… and I don't have nightmares," I say defensively.

"Don't be that way," she whispers, turning off the light and lying back down, "I'm not making fun of you, Case. Just don't pretend they aren't there."

I sigh and nod, "I'm sorry I woke you."

"I'm sorry I woke you," she shrugs, "Anything else?"

"Yeah. I might head out for a while."

"It's five in the morning."

"I want to walk to Primm."

I feel guilty for getting annoyed at Sunny when she asks why. She's been taking care of me for five weeks, she can ask whatever she wants, but I still sigh, "I think I might get a job."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'll be back soon. Do you think I'll be OK?"

"Yeah… Yeah you should be alright with NCR. Usually they search for two weeks then ease up just a little bit. Wear a hat though, maybe sunglasses to cover your face. You don't want to stay for an hour or two? I'll make you some food for the road."

I smile and shake my head, "No, I'm good. Thank you."

"Be safe," she mumbles as I close the door.

Primm is only an hour walk from Goodsprings. It's easy to spot, just follow the old roller-coaster and it's easy to get to. It's still dark out, by the time I reach Primm I'll have an hour to get my bearings before the markets open up at seven.

I walk along the side of the road for the first half hour. I keep looking over my shoulder, but nobody is usually around this early. I stay quiet, feeling nervous as I feel my gun banging lightly against my hip. I really don't want to use it, I hate having it at my side. It's heavy, and I don't want to have to hurt anybody. A gecko, sure, but not a person.

The road is long and straight, so it's easy to spot someone coming. I see two black dots coming from a mile. Anxiety hits me and I veer off the road. I keep to the side, my eyes trained on the figures ahead of me. When we're 300 metres apart, I still can't tell who these people are. I take out my gun and keep it at my side. I squint and lean forward, seeing one black dot becoming smaller than the other one. Eventually, I see a small child, with either his mother or father walking beside him. As I close the distance, I wince when I see mother and child walking down the road. I holster my gun and walk back onto the road.

I smell them from a long way away, stinking of smoke and filth. I almost cover my nose as they walk past. The boy is crying, and as he walks past me, I make the mistake of smelling him. A recoil and almost retch. I remember screaming and crying from those people. My eyes water and I almost taste the smoke in my throat. My stomach goes tight and my brain starts working overtime. I struggle to breathe as I stumble onto the side of the road and sit down.

"Momma…!" the boy cries out. I look over and see the boy tugging at his mother's sleeve, pointing at me.

I flick my wrist at them, desperate for them to leave, "I'm OK." I force a smile, "Go on. I'll be fine."

The mother gives me a dirty look, correctly assuming that they were the reason why I'm in a state. My heart is thumping, my face burning bright red and sweat pouring down my face. My hands clamber to take off my jacket, my body heat trapped underneath the heavy fabric. I yank it off and lie on the dirt, heaving in air and lying in paralysing fear. I look up at the darkened sky, glassy eyed and coughing for air as imaginary smoke fills my lungs. Eventually, my body starts to relax. I can breathe normally, but I'm covered in sweat. It's barely morning, it isn't even that hot yet. I gingerly pick myself up, feeling horrible. My stomach feels weak and stressed and I contemplate just turning back. I look up and see Primm in the distance. Darn, what would my father think of me now? I can't even walk to a destination without completely breaking down. I whisper and apology to him and stand up onto my feet. I put my jacket in my bag and wash my face with my canteen.

Primm is a decent sized town. Mom used to say it used to be a place where people could go to have fun with their families, that the roller-coaster used to be a fast tram, like the one Dad used to travel to so he get into the Strip when he was up that way. The place is quiet, but I can see the sun starting to rise. The entire town is surrounded by a high fence, with spikes at the top. Despite the discouraging perimeter, Primm is open to the public. I enter the town and round a corner. A couple of NCR soldiers are standing around, talking and smoking. I duck around a corner, pressing my back against the wall.

"Dang," I whisper, sliding down so I'm sitting against the wall. I adjust my hat and sunglasses. I shove my hair up into my hat, making it look shorter and darker than it actually is. My sweaty hair also does a good job of darkening my hair. I judge by the sun that it's around 6:30, and I see a few businesses open for business. I peer around the corner, only my head sticking out. They're still there, and one looks and smirks at me. I gasp and scramble to my feet. I duck around the corner and move to another building. I scurry up a fire escape and hide behind a bordered up corner of one floor that's used for cover. I wait for five minutes, but nobody comes. I drop down and stay in the alleys and the corners. I hesitate, before I see Mojave Express at the corner of a street. I check all the roads, before running toward the building, opening the door, and slamming it behind me.

Mojave Express is a quiet, cramped, little shack. Nobody is at the front desk, only a bell and a neat little row of plastic seats for someone to sit on. I look around, dumping my bag onto the floor beside me and tapping the bell at the front desk. The bell doesn't work, so I frown and lean against the desk.

A radio is on with Radio New Vegas, blaring out _Heartache by the Number_ in a sort of peaceful way. The song is on its final seconds and when it fades out Mr New Vegas takes the moment to announce the news.

"Got some news for you," the AI bot announces, "A representative from the NCR at the Mojave Outpost has officially responded to reports of war crimes along the north western Powder Ganger settlements. Commander Dyson has issued a statement, claiming that all rumours of aggression toward civilians should be treated as such. The Commander blames the recent plundering of a Powder Ganger settlement to recent friction between several gangs in the North West area of the Mojave, specifically with the Fiends. He also issued a warning to all NCR civilians and traders, claiming that Powder Gangers from other areas of the Mojave would be eager to strike as an act of uncalled for "retribution". All NCR citizens should avoid anybody who looks like they may have done time it the past. Alright… I've got another song for you…"

I roll my eyes at Doc actually being right; of course they would use it as an excuse for tension between the NCR and Powder Gangers. My Dad never would have allowed his guys to go running into this sort of thing. This entire time nobody's come to the front desk, even though I'm sure I've made some noise.

"Hello…?"

I hear a thump, coughing, grumbling and moving around. A door opens and an elderly man walks out.

"Hello there," he smiles, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here for work," I exhale as my eyes flick to the help wanted sign on the desk.

The old man chuckles and shakes his head, "You know how to move packages?"

"… Yeah…" I say slowly from confusion.

"Sorry kid," he shakes his head, "We're looking for kids who are a little more, weathered and 'sturdy'."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you're a little bit… shorter and younger than what's needed for this job."

"But I'm fast," I say quickly when he nods to the door, "I can run anywhere! You'll get your packages fast, I promise!"

The old man gives me a look as he examines me, "How long have you been… 'on your own'?"

I look down at myself, covered in dirt and sweat and messy hair. I'm skinny due to my loss of appetite these past few weeks, and my constant nightmares keep me awake for some of the night. Then there was that business on the side of the road, and hiding from the NCR… I must look horrible.

"A… a while," I stumble out. Yeah, I live with Sunny, but he doesn't need to know that. All he needs to know is that I'm young and "on my own".

He tuts and shakes his head and I curl my filthy fingers against the side of the desk, "I will work any time you want, run any package you want for however pay you want to pay me. Please… I need money, and I don't want to work in Freeside."

The fear of working in Freeside as an escort is every woman's fear, but not really one at the front of my mind. Again, he doesn't know that. He gives me an awkward look, before sighing and handing me a clipboard, "Can you read?"

I nod and he hands me a pencil, "Fill this out."

I sit down at the plastic seat and look at the single slip of paper. The paper demands my name, basic physical information, and my age and my next of kin. Not my address or even my town of residence.

"How are you going to find me?"

"We don't. You walk in and apply for a job whenever you want to. Your name will be added onto a list of couriers. If you come in during the day, preferably early, we'll have work for you. You work when you want to, some people here work jobs at Goodsprings as farmers, some work in the casino, you get the drill."

"Alright…" I trail off as I write my first name. I feel nervous writing down my physical description, especially since I'm not sure if the NCR is still looking for me, but I need a job. I leave next of kin blank, as well as my last name. When I hand it back to him, he examines the form and frowns, "Like being on a first name basis, kid?"

"You could say that," I exhale, tapping my fingers anxiously on the table, "will that be a problem?"

He shrugs, "Not really."

He reaches underneath the counter and puts a small package the size of my hand onto the table, with a small book, "First job."

I nod and lean forward when he points at the book, "It's simple, the address, time and name of the client is written here, as well as the money owed in caps, NCR or Legion money. You can count?"

"Yeah," I nod, "I can do math."

"Alright. You have a map?"

"… No."

He sighs and drops a map onto the desk. He opens it and draws a red circle on Primm, "Home base."

He hands me a compass, which looks a little busted, and a watch, which works.

"The compass works. Have it to him within the hour. You run off with the package and I have you name on NCR's wanted list with your physical description."

I swallow and nod rapidly.

"Relax kid," he smiles, "I'm Johnson Nash. Just call me Nash."

He reaches out my hand and I shake it, "Nice to work with you, Nash."

"Well, get going," he nods.

"Right away."

I look at my watch, I've got around 45 minutes to deliver this thing. It's within walking distance, well, everything is. I hold the map, leaning against the wall outside Mojave Express while I try to get my bearings. The compass does work, and I use it to get onto the right road. I avoid any NCR soldier I see, but it would be difficult to pick me out in the crowd that's slowly accumulating. I tuck the package carefully into my bag and set off.

I find the location with fifteen minutes to spare. I see a guy leaning against the wall of an abandoned shack and I walk up to him.

"Hey, man," I almost mumble. Why am I nervous? Am I that sheltered that I freak out by talking to a stranger?

"You're the courier?"

"Yeah. Name?"

"Williams."

I look down at the paper and nod, "Alright. That'll be $20 in NCR money."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs and slaps a $20 into my palm before signing the paper.

"Have a good day," I nod.

"You too kid," he sighs.

…

"Not too difficult, right?" Nash smirks when I walk into the officer and show him the papers.

"Never said it was," I try to smile assuringly, but I'm sure it just comes off as uneasy.

"Eh, it gets easier," he shrugs, "You want to get paid in caps?"

"Course."

He hands me 15 caps in a small pouch. I bounce it up and down in my palm and he chuckles, "You should be able to buy yourself a decent meal with that."

I check for more work, but Nash sends me home with promises that I won't be needed for the rest of the day.

I walk back to Goodsprings and find Sunny collecting water by the pipeline.

"I got a job as a courier," I say, handing her my pay, "Here."

"What's this?" she frowns.

"Figured I should start paying you back for all the food and shelter you've been givin' me," I mumble when she opens the pouch.

"I don't need money, Case," she shakes her head and tries to hand it back, "Save money and buy your own place. Hell, not that I don't like having you around, I just assume you don't want to listen to me blabbering on in my sleep all night."

I chuckle and nod, "Alright."

Sunny nods back at me and hugs me tightly, "I'm proud of you, Case. It's going to be great having a job to take your mind of things. Things will be easier now, I promise."

"I hope so."


End file.
